Arha showed up in her white leather, quietly studying the turnout, her milk-white lightsaber (sans the crysknife part, which was holstered, nestled in its spot on her other hip) hanging from her belt. Her hair was pulled back and twisted away in a series of small braids that she brushed back as she scanned the area with bright blue-within-blue eyes.

She was looking forward to see what all of this was about.